Erin watched as his army was obliterated.

  He had planned on it being a show of force; a deterrent to the repeated raids, but now….

  Erin had lost all two-hundred and thirty-four Batarangs that he had rushed overnight; only the two breeders remained.

  What the fuck…? Erin's eyes wandered onto Lyra.

  A runic-dark-Elf with what — gravity magic? Erin guessed.

  He recalled the words Lyra had spoken.

  Will Of Omen. Erin repeated.

  Who the hell is Omen?

  Regardless, Erin’s attention fixated unto Lyra; she had just put a target on her back.

  Against his better judgment, Erin simply could not let her live. For if she lived, they’d advance.

  And if they advanced, they’d stumble upon Erin.

  There was no other choice.

  Erin had to do something.

  He could feel panic begin to enshroud him; as the trio advanced further within his dungeon, Erin’s instincts instilled in him desperation.

  His presence appeared among the newly born Batarangs.

  Erin had yet to make a Boss for the second floor; he had wanted to make them special — he had wanted to grant them magic — but it seemed Lyra had other plans in store for him.

  Erin returned to basics.

  Bigger!!! He commanded.

  Among other things, Erin created a bringer of death.

  The Batarang grew monstrous; its wingspan stretched twice the length of man, with membranous wings reminiscent of a bat’s but layered with onyx scale-like skin that glinted in the dark.

  Its form mirrored a wyvern’s — a creature that appeared in Erin’s memories — but its anatomy still closely reflected the eerie, angular silhouette of a bat with its rib cage slightly ajar as if born for endless flight.

  The creature’s head was a grotesque blend between mammal and reptile; it was bat-like, with oversized, pointed ears that twitched at the faintest of sounds; yet reptilian, with the long snout of a wyvern lined with jagged, venomous teeth.

  The beast had beady eyes that glowed an unsettling red alongside bony, backward-curving horns that arched from behind its skull.

  Its clawed feet were webbed, which allowed for agile movement within the air and it had talons that dripped with the thick, urchin-born toxin that Erin had concocted prior.

  At the end of the creature, a bony club-like tip adorned in the same venom swung back and forth.

  Erin basked in the creation of his Boss.

  Vesperclaw! Erin named the species.

  He poured mana into the Vesperclaw’s core — he marked it for resurrection as he had done with Smoky’s.

  What? Erin asked.

  Once he had figured out that he could translate his desires into runes, Erin was damn sure to automate the resurrection process.

  He merely willed for the effect to be upon the beast’s core and voila — the runes inscribed themselves upon the crystal walls of the core.

  Therefore, upon the deaths of Smoky and the Vesperclaw, readily available mana — or in other words straight from Erin’s core — would henceforth rush to their aid and resurrect them; after one hour, of course.

  The resurrection did cost Erin more mana than if he were to evolve another Batarang into a Vesperclaw — but he could not do the same for Smoky; and with tradition set, Erin would be damned if he didn’t keep it.

  Always treat the boss better than the laborer… right? Erin thought.

  Anyway, Erin released the Vesperclaw into the caverns and while it harassed the approaching trio — Erin started construction of the second floor’s Boss Room.

  A Boss needed its own throne, right?

  Erin returned to the stone bridge at the end of the floor. First, he expanded the space.

  He raised the ceilings and pushed back the walls. Then, he eliminated the floor all around the bridge until nothing remained.

  It was the bridge and it was the void.

  There was nothing else for a multi-mile wide radius.

  This feeling of infinity extended to the ceiling as Erin had pushed it as high as it could go; whilst stood upon the bridge, especially due to the darkness, nothing could be seen.

  No ceiling. No floor. No land in the distance.

  The stone bridge was completely isolated.

  Along the pillars that kept it afloat, algae bloomed — the only source of light within the bottomless canyon.

  The small clusters of light glowed every ten meters — just enough to see the form of the bridge itself as without it, who’s to say the bridge even existed at all?

  Beyond the darkness, however, Erin built into the stone. He carved a cave from the walls and constructed a nest.

  He built pillars surrounding a center bed, where he softened the stone to sand for the Vesperclaw’s comfort. Upon the pillars around the bed, Erin concocted runes.

  He added a warming array between the pillars — for the Vesperclaw’s comfort.

  Erin decorated the cave walls as well. He made the cuts into the stone smooth and sleek. He added small intricate details here and there: the Batarang emblem, for example.

  He molded sconces upon the pillars, lanterns anew — light in the dark.

  The lanterns hummed softly. They produced warm, gentle light and could be seen from halfway across the bridge.

  It was the bridge’s light at the end of the tunnel — it marked the end of the second floor.

  Erin built the floor’s exit too, but he wanted to wait for the adventurers to discover it themselves — he was quite proud of his ingenuity this time around, after all.

  ***

  After multiple hours spent in the dark, Kuzo and his addendum stumbled upon a landmark unrecognized.

  They stopped before it, a bridge that crossed the perilous void.

  It was a stone bridge, thinner than any they’d walked upon to get here, and it continued on forever.

  Or at least, it seemed that way.

  As even with Lyra’s unique eyes, even she could not peer past the darkness. The bridge stretched into the void — it got lost in it — was consumed by it.

  Kuzo stepped onto the bridge.

  The others followed.

  Although made of stone, the bridge wobbled unsteadily. The pillars beneath swayed under the trio’s weight, but alas they continued.

  Then, from the sea of black that surrounded them, an echo sank into the trio’s eardrums.

  It rattled their hearts and struck at their chords.

  The trio stopped. They looked around.

  Lyra’s eyes pierced the veil of night.

  For the past few hours or so, her toes curled cold. Her fingers numbed underneath her gloves and her demeanor gradually grew shaky.

  In the distant dark, two beady eyes emerged red.

  The Vesperclaw parted its maw and thick goops of green venom spilled out. The drool dripped from the sky like bird droppings and landed upon the bridge; its toxicity ate away at the stone.

  Slowly, smoke rose into the dark.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “SKREEEE!!” A high-pitched screech rocked the air.

  The Vesperclaw swooped down. It plummeted from the black sky and barreled towards the trio.

  It spread its webbed feet as it shot towards Lyra.

  “Shaped Wind: Gale Palm!” Bram shouted.

  A gust of wind tore across the bridge and slammed into the Vesperclaw. The beast’s trajectory was shot; it crashed into one of the stone pillars below, bricks exploded out, and the bridge rumbled.

  The Vesperclaw returned to the dark, however.

  Pieces of loose stone and rock accompanied it.

  Kuzo and Bram, Lyra too, they barely heard the pitter-patter of the stones hit the ground.

  Then, the bridge swayed violently.

  Kuzo stood unbothered; Bram and Lyra though, they succumbed to their knees — their balance distorted and unsteady.

  The Vesperclaw’s howl returned.

  Like a wraith, its horrendous pitch summoned blood from the adventurer’s ears. Goosebumps bombarded their skin all whilst their hairs stood on ends.

  The beast swooped down again. It dove from the shadowed cliff’s above as its leathery wings snapped apart. It angled diagonally, thus the Vesperclaw violently spiraled towards the adventurers.

  Lyra shouted a warning. Then, Kuzo drew his blade just as the Vesperclaw hurled towards him, claws extended.

  Kuzo ducked and narrowly evaded the beast’s venomous claws, but the force of the Vesperclaw continued; its thin silhouette slammed into the bridge beyond him and more stone debris exploded into the air.

  *BOOM*

  The beast crawled upon the bridge, its crimson eyes glowed with predatory intent.

  The pillars beneath cracked underneath the pressure.

  The bridge wobbled.

  It toppled to one side then crumbled to pieces.

  “Shaped Wind: Gale Stride!” Bram clapped his palms together.

  Then, wind rushed behind him.

  The winds coalesced behind the group, it propelled them forward. The spell enhanced their speed and granted them an unfamiliar sensation of weightlessness.

  With it, the three ran for all hell.

  They charged across the bridge — each step another aid in the process of the bridge’s demise.

  Then, Lyra screamed out.

  “Ahh!! Fuck!” She gritted her teeth.

  Lyra’s toes and fingers — all of a sudden — burned with a scourging intensity.

  She squeezed her fist’s tight; she bludgeoned her toes into the ground and yet still — the pain could not be ignored.

  Her nerves lit aflame.

  Lyra bit her lips until they bled; she dragged herself across the stone.

  Meanwhile, echoes sounded beyond them.

  The Vesperclaw still hunted.

  Bram ran to Lyra’s side. He put his shoulder underneath her armpit and dragged her to her feet, but that seemed to only inflame the pain.

  “AHHHH!!! STOP!! STOP IT! JUST WAIT!!” Lyra pleaded.

  Tears welled in her eyes.

  Blood ran from her lips.

  Her irradiant, beautiful eyes — they were marred by her tears.

  “SKREEE!!!!” The Vesperclaw’s shrill shriek pierced the air.

  As it did so, momentarily, the trio’s figures froze.

  Another volley of goosebumps assaulted their flesh.

  Then.

  *smack*

  Kuzo slapped his cheeks with both his hands.

  He pulled another gadget from one of his vest’s many inner-pockets — just how many did he have?

  He pulled out what could only be described as a talisman; a rectangular piece of white paper with bold, red lettering imprinted within its center.

  For this particular talisman, the character’s read ‘light.’

  Kuzo tore the talisman in half.

  Light!

  An uncontrollable and incessant blast of white light exploded out from the talisman’s paper.

  It eviscerated the dark.

  *BOOM*

  Something big slammed into the stone yonder, but Kuzo couldn’t see it; nobody could see, for that matter.

  Bram saw white light and pretty colors.

  Lyra saw nothing but gold.

  And Kuzo covered his eye with his portable mirror.

  After what felt like an eternity, Kuzo saw splotches of black appear within his vision.

  He blinked repeatedly.

  He looked around as he dug at his eye and after some time — Kuzo could finally make out his surroundings.

  Bram huddled over Lyra; the two hadn’t moved since before the light.

  The Vesperclaw, on the other hand, its eyes bled.

  The beast dragged itself across the stone floor, towards the cliff perched over the void.

  Its eyes bled profusely; they were carved and severed.

  The beast must have clawed at them to repel the light, but to no success.

  Kuzo made his way to the Vesperclaw.

  He held his broadsword between his hands; he stood above the beast, admiring its form — for it was a beast unlike he had ever seen.

  It clearly resembled a bat like the other monsters that crowded this dungeon, but within this particular monster there existed more.

  It was the scales along its wings, the shape of its jaw and teeth, the tail that loomed behind it — these were not natural traits found in bats.

  These were reptilian.

  The dungeon had changed what a bat was meant to be.

  What Kuzo couldn’t figure out, however, was why?

  “Are you gonna kill that thing or what?!!” Bram’s annoyed tone pulled Kuzo from his thoughts.

  In the next moment, Kuzo’s sword flashed and the Vesperclaw’s head rolled.

  Lyra, meanwhile, continued to whimper on the dungeon floor.

  The pain had — unfortunately — just begun for her.

  ***

  “Are we there yet?” A teen’s voice echoed between oak trees.

  A party of five surged through dense, mountainous oak forest. Their silver armor gleamed underneath beams of sunlight that pierced through the canopy of trees above.

  Dark, flowy capes billowed behind them. The black fabric blended into the deep shadows cast by the towering oaks.

  Each of the five members moved with urgency; their armor rhythmically clinked as they traveled, their steps calculated and swift as they maneuvered the forest floor.

  The woman at the front of the party raised her hands, a faint shimmer of energy spread out and — like a wave — coalesced around the bodies of her party members.

  At her command, the magic took hold. It burned yellow and wrapped around them; then, their figures blurred between the ancient oaks — they moved faster than humanly possible.

  The other woman darted forward with newfound ease. She leapt over roots and rocks as if the ground itself were guiding her steps.

  One man, with his helmet tucked underneath his arm and his hair streaming back, nodded in gratitude as the magic enhanced his senses and strengthened his reflexes.

  He was the leader of the group — a tall, broad-shouldered man — he signaled for them to spread out; his black cape whipped around him as he picked up his pace, his gaze fixed forward with steely determination.

  The final two moved like shadows in sync. They adjusted their stances and their movements became lighter and quicker as the spell took full effect.

  With each stride, the party of five drew closer to their destination. They could hear the sound of waves in the distance. The noise melded with the rustling of the oak’s and the hum of their magic, but the waves were growing louder.

  Together, all five rushed forward, their formation tight, as each was driven by a shared purpose. In their wake, they left behind only a whisper of magic and the fading scent of iron as they descended the mountainous forest towards the coastline below.

  Finally, after just a week of travel, the Scouts laid eyes upon the eastern coast; it stretched far and along its sands, ragged tents peppered the beach.

  The tents were made from canvas, their fabric was patched and fraying — each of them bore the marks of the sea, with salt stains and seaweed marks all around them.

  Smoke rose from a few remaining embers, it drifted lazily into the pale morning sky. More than a handful of men ambled about, most rough-looking and dressed in simple, travel-worn garb. Their faces were weathered by the sun and their hair was stiff from the salt.

  Two women moved among them; their hair tied back and their sleeves rolled up. The women’s eyes were sharp and watchful as they tended to a small fire and stirred a simple pot.

  Nearby, a man tightened the rope of a fishing net whilst another sharpened his dagger — the scrape of metal against stone filled the otherwise quiet camp.

  The gentle crash of the waves against the shore was constant, it mingled with the hush murmurs of camp alongside the cawing of the seagulls above.

  “Is that it?” The teen’s voice returned.

  “It sure is!” A chirpy woman replied. “Anyone wanna place bets on where we find this guy?!”

  “He’s on the tallest mountain.” A dull man’s voice pointed out.

  “Goddamnit, Sten!!” The woman barked.

  Sten didn’t acknowledge Viv’s outburst. Instead, he cast his apathetic eyes towards the camp upon the beach

  “The fourth born is not on the beach.” Sten said.

  “What is he doing up in the mountains?” Another woman, not Viv, asked.

  “Sten, Viv — you two go to the camp. Tell them what’s happening. In the meantime, the twins — you’re with me. We’re going to locate the fourth born son, Bram Moor. Clear?” The leader barked.

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Roger, sir!”

  “What?!! With him!!”

  “…”

  ***

  Erin spotted them from the moment they crossed into the oak forest.

  So while the Vesperclaw continued to hunt the trio, Erin snapped his attention across the land above and appeared among its trees.

  Five knights adorned in silver armor, with black capes at their backs, rushed towards his dungeon.

  There were three men and two women; the center-most man held his helmet in his arms, he had a chiseled face — a scar ran through his cheek — and his navy eyes hung beneath thick, bushy eyebrows.

  In the front, a light and joyous woman bounced along; she kicked off the ground as if it were a trampoline. She tumbled high in the air, above the trees, then she clapped her hands.

  “Physical Enhancement: Stamina Surge!”

  Yellow light burst from her palms and coated her party. The petite woman — blonde and rosy-cheeked — exploded with speed uncouth.

  In the next instance, all five of them blurred.

  Beside the man in the center, another man crept ahead; he was freakishly tall, stood twice the size as the rest, and he had buzzed gray hair, dull eyes, and a squared face.

  In the back of the pack, two more followed suit; one man and one woman.

  Or should I say one boy and one girl? Erin thought.

  As the two in the back resembled mere kids — teenagers. They shared the same hair and eye color — gold — but their demeanors contrasted wildly.

  The boy was lean and quick, golden strands of hair hung past his eyes and tickled his nose. He carried two swords, one on each side of him, and his expression exuded seriousness.

  Meanwhile, the girl next to him tied her golden hair behind her — a black bow held it back; although adorned in the same armor as the rest, she grasped a thin, silver wand between her fingers and as she surged through the forest — her eyes could not hold still. They constantly flickered about, from the oaks to the berry bushes — fascination engulfed her inside and out.

  Erin watched them for some time.

  Then, the five split up; three to Erin’s doors’ and two to the camp beneath him.

  Erin split his attention — it wasn’t perfect — but with it Erin could vaguely understand what both parties were doing at the same time.

  One he observed actively, while the other more so played in the background; Erin could ‘hear’ it and ‘see’ it, the information was in his peripheral and there were many things he could gleam from that snapshot — but he still needed to concentrate on one or the other to truly perceive it in its entirety.

  An hour later, the duo arrived at the camp.

  Viv stepped forward immediately; her small frame lost in a sea of tents.

  “EVERYBODY LISTEN UP!!” She roared.

  “By order of the Minister, your safety and passage to the Moor Dukedom has been secured; in four days, an Empire’s brig will dock on these shores. You are all to board; your possessions will be stripped of you; and by month’s end — you will all be back on your own land!” Viv shouted.

  “Hey! Wait a minute!!” A man shouted.

  “There will be no questions!!” Viv fired back.

  “You can’t just take our-”

  *BOOM*

  Sten clapped his hands together. A sonic cannon erupted and the sands beneath him exploded out.

  “YOU MOTHER FU-” Viv clutched her ears.

  As did the rest of the camp. Nobody could hear. Not anymore.

  Sten despised haggling.

  After that, the camper’s stopped their grumbling.

  Viv barged into their camp; she sat upon one of the logs placed around a campfire and crossed one leg over the other, and with her chin rested upon her palm, she waited.

  Erin, meanwhile, swapped his attention to the others.

  “That must have been Sten.” The man in front said.

  “Does he just hate talking?” The girl asked.

  The man rubbed his chin.

  “No… that’s not it. Sten’s just… unique.”

  “Unique’s one way to put it.” The boy commented.

  “Hey! Weylin!” The girl snapped.

  “What?” Weylin said. “Has he ever even spoken to you?”

  “That’s not the point!”

  “Alright you guys, that’s enough. We’re here.” The man interrupted.

  In front of their party of three, jagged rocks protruded out from a ravenous maw that disappeared further into the mountainside.

  “Amara — watch over your brother. Don’t worry about me.” The man said seriously.

  “But Kai!”

  “No buts!” Their leader, Kai, said.

  He smiled at his pupils; his grin was wide and genuine.

  Kai grabbed the black sash around his wrist and tied back his long, wavy hair. As he did so, he released his polearm from his back.

  He twirled the long staff around his shoulders until it comfortably lay rest in the pit of his palm. Upon the edge of his polearm, a swift glaive severed the wind.

  Weylin drew his dual swords and Amara gripped her wand.

  Then, they entered the mountainside’s maw; into a dungeon they never knew existed.